


At the End of the Day

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Akiyama Nobutomo Belongs to @judasetcetera, Alternate Universe - Modern, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Severina's March 2019 Requests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-30 18:50:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18321155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: What he needs.





	At the End of the Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [judasetcetera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/judasetcetera/gifts).



> Akiyama Nobutomo is a historically based OC belonging to @judasetcetera. This was written for Judas as a request for the month of March 2019.

The sun hadn’t even set yet and already Nobutomo felt nearly dead on his feet, arms laden with bags of supplies for the apartment and his own jacket, which was probably twisted up into some kind of knot by now with how both of his arms seemed to be trapped at once even though he’d made a _point_ to try and avoid just that. He fumbled with the keys to the apartment door and unlocked it with no small amount of unnecessary difficulty, nudging the door open with his foot and placing the great big bundle of various items onto the nearest flat surface. 

“Shit,” he muttered, now suddenly feeling ten times more drained than before - but it was more to himself than to anyone else. He didn’t get a reply. Instantly a mild twinge of alarm jolted him back into lucidity. Mitsuhide didn’t _usually_ stay so quiet, not when they _both_ were home – had he missed something? Perhaps he’d gone out on a whim – Nobutomo certainly wouldn’t put it past him, being as sporadic as he was. He folded his aching legs beneath him and slid under the covers of the kotatsu in the center of the main room, reaching underneath to find the power for the heating element only to feel something warm and very _alive._

“Are you _really – “_

His question was answered as Mitsuhide, bleary-eyed, emerged from beneath the hanging blanket, hair thoroughly mussed and only half-awake, and Nobutomo couldn’t help but laugh despite himself. It really was like living with an overlarge cat. 

“You stayed there all day?”

“It’s warm,” Mitsuhide said in response, shrugging noncommittally despite the fact that he looked like he’d just risen from the dead. Heavens knew he didn’t sleep enough, and that the day off had probably done some good for him, but as he inched forwards Nobutomo was shocked by his _own_ sudden surge of protectiveness, at how he reached forward and drew Mitsuhide, tangled hair and all, into his arms, holding him tightly out of some inexplicable panic. “I'm _fine,”_ Mitsuhide had said in exasperation – but he certainly didn’t mind relaxing into the warm embrace.

“You’re a mess,” Nobutomo softly corrected.

“Am I not allowed to be a mess?”

“If that’s what makes you happy.” Nobutomo felt a quickened little exhale against the inside of his forearm and knew that it was the closest that Mitsuhide would get to his giddy, high-pitched little laugh when he was still groggy and recently-hibernated. “But why not choose a more comfortable nest?” He received a slightly-amused glare through a curtain of white hair in response. 

“It’s not as warm.”

“There’s blankets! Christ, Mitsuhide, we have _five_ of them in that room.”

“But no heat source.” It was almost possible to hear the quietly defiant pout in his voice and Nobutomo had to give it to him, he knew how to trap him. After so many months of living with one another, these games were commonplace – there was a sense of familiarity that they brought, comforting to the both of them. 

“I’ll be your damn heat source,” he said, and gathered Mitsuhide up into his arms the best he could, a mess of long hair and lanky limbs and little writhes and twists of delight as he carried him into the adjacent room, burrowing deep under the blankets and stretching, feeling the tension of a long, monotonous day dissipate at last. Normally this was where one of them would make some sort of poorly masked innuendo about _warming up_ the other, but nothing of the sort came. 

Instead each of them took comfort in the slow pace of the other’s breathing, and did nothing aside from simply _be._ There would be time later for other such _antics,_ if the urge arose later. For now? This was the happiest, Nobutomo thought, that he had ever been.


End file.
